


Take A Look At The Lawman

by Small_Hobbit



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-05-28 13:51:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15050528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: Once more Sam insists they've arrested the wrong man.  Gene may take some convincing.





	Take A Look At The Lawman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tunglo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tunglo/gifts).



> Title from David Bowie's _Life on Mars_

Gene Hunt erupted from his office, waving a file furiously in front of him.  A piece of paper, which looked as though it had originally been attached to the file cover, floated to the ground.

“What do you mean, Tyler,” Gene growled, “By insisting Reynolds is not the perpetrator?”

“Exactly what I wrote in my note.”  Sam Tyler didn’t bother looking up from the report he was studying.

“Reynolds was not physically capable of delivering the blow.  He’s strong enough.”

“And he’s only five foot four.”

“Your point is?” Gene huffed.

“Freeman is over six foot.”  Sam finally looked up.  “There’s no way Reynolds could have struck a blow at the right angle.”

“There must be some way he could have done so.”

“Yes, by standing on a box.  ‘Please wait a minute whilst I climb onto this conveniently placed box before I hit you.’”

“Perhaps Freeman was kneeling down.”  Gene was determined he wasn’t going to lose the argument.

“Really?  Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know.  Tying up his shoelace?”

“ ‘I realise we’re having a heated argument, which might end in a physical fashion, so just hang on a sec while I tie my shoelace as I don’t want to trip over it.’?”  Sam’s voice mimicked Gene’s tone when he was laughing at one of Sam’s ideas.

“So what do you suggest?”

“We take another look at the scene of the crime.  There may be something we’ve missed.”

Gene sighed.  “Okay.  I’ll get my keys.”

It was some hours since Reynolds had been arrested on suspicion of attempted murder.  In 2006, forensics would have gone over the scene with a fine-tooth comb, and everything would have been logged and noted.  And Sam would be left trying to spot anomalies by reading through reports.  However, in 1973 none of that was going to have happened, so it was entirely possible he and Gene could find something which had been overlooked.  Sam was also coming to appreciate the chance to mentally reconstruct the scene whilst in the actual location, having discovered it could bring him one step closer to the events.

There was a policeman on duty outside the front door to the small terraced house when they arrived.  He nodded to Sam and Gene as he let them in.

“I’m surprised to see Robbins still here,” Sam said once they were inside.  “I’d have expected Phyllis to have told him to go on his beat, and ‘stop wasting police time.’”

Gene laughed.  “He’s only here to keep the ghouls out.  They all want to come and see the marks of Freeman’s blood on the floor.  Many people over the years have accused him of not having any.  Once the locksmith’s been and put a decent lock on the door Robbins will be able to resume his beat by lingering at pub doorways.”

Sam snorted.  “And passing on details of the attack, both true and exaggerated.”  He paused, then added, “Although we might be able to use that to our advantage.”

“How?”

“I’m not quite sure as yet.  I’ll let you know.”

The front door opened straight into the living room, where Freeman’s unconscious body had been found, and where, from the evidence of the blood, the attack had happened.  Having taken a good look round, they then made their way round the rest of the house, but there was no sign of anything other than the usual chaos of a household with young children.

“So,” Sam said, “Freeman was alone because his wife was at work.  Was this well known?”

“Probably.  Cartwright spoke to her.  She works two nights a week, every Wednesday and Thursday.”

“Which means if you were planning on attacking Freeman, you’d choose one of those nights.”

“You don’t think it was the result of an argument got out of hand, do you?”  Gene thought for a moment, then concluded, “That makes sense.  If they’d been arguing then the blow should have been to the front of Freeman’s head, not the back.”

“Exactly.  I’m growing more and more suspicious of this talk of people having heard an argument.  Oh, but where were the kids?”

“According to Cartwright, at the wife’s parents.  And, yeah, that’s a regular thing too.”

“Don’t you find it curious Reynolds attacked Freeman and left but didn’t shut the front door properly because he was in too much of a hurry – it’s a Yale lock, and the door didn’t seem at all stiff when we came in – leaving a sufficient gap for a concerned passerby to look in and find Freeman lying on the floor in a pool of blood?”

“You want to have a chat with this passerby?”

“Yes.  I’ll contact the station and get Chris to get the details.”

“No need.  His name was Webber and he lives further down the road,” Gene said. 

Sam’s eyes widened, and Gene retorted, “What?  No need to look at me like that.  I always make a note of the informant; they often know more than they choose to inform us of.”

“Let’s go and have a little word with him.”

“What about that idea you had when you came in?”

“Oh yes, this is my plan…”

As they left the house, Gene complained loudly to Sam, “That was another waste of time and effort, Tyler.  I told you I knew who did it, and once again, I have been proved right.”

Sam meekly replied, “Sorry, Guv.  I should have known.”

They got into the Cortina and pulled away.  Almost immediately, the locksmith’s van pulled into the space.

“Excellent,” Gene said.  “Robbins will soon be on his merry way, telling all and sundry we’ve got Freeman bang to rights, and our actual attacker will relax believing he’s off the hook.”  He stopped the car.  “Right, let’s go and see if Webber is in or if his old lady knows where we can find him.”

When Gene knocked on the front door, Mrs Webber informed him, in no uncertain terms, her husband was not home and that he should be at work, but more likely, since it was lunchtime, he’d be in the Black Dog.  With that, she shut the door on them.

“Right, we’ve got time to grab a pie and chips at the chinkie.  And by the time we’ve eaten, Robbins will have spread the good word, and we can surprise Mr Webber by telling him it’s not true.”

There was no-one at the bar when Gene and Sam entered the Black Dog, so Gene banged loudly on the counter.

The barman appeared and said, “Wait your turn.  You’re not the only customers in here.”

“But we are the only policemen in here,” Gene replied, “and we’d like to know if a certain Frank Webber is around.”  When the barman hesitated, he added, “And if you don’t give me the correct reply I’m sure there are irregularities in your licensing which can be investigated.”

“He’s the tall bloke in the back bar, far corner, talking with three of his mates.”

Gene strode off towards the back bar, Sam following.  The regulars fell silent as they entered the bar, and Sam could sense a certain amount of hostility.  Gene didn’t hesitate but made straight for the corner where Webber was standing.

“Interesting companions you have, Mr Webber,” Gene began.

One of the other men muttered, “Afternoon, Mr Hunt,” before making his way to the door, downing the rest of his pint as he went.  One of the others went with him.

“I’d like another word with you about this morning’s sad events,” Gene continued.

“Yeah, glad to hear you’ve got the bloke who did it,” Webber replied.

Gene didn’t acknowledge the statement, but said, “I understand there was an argument.”

“Freeman and Rey -,” Webber halted abruptly, then resumed, “- uh, I mean, Freeman and some other bloke were at it hammer and tongs.  So, you know, when I walked past later and saw the door was open, I thought I really ought to see if everything was all right.”

“Did they have the windows open?”

“Nah, it wasn’t that hot that time of night.”

“Only, I’m wondering how you heard them from your house.  I know I can be heard at a distance when I put my mind to it, but even I’d be hard put to shout loud enough.”

“No, you see, I was told they had an argument.”

“Who told you, Mr Webber?” Sam asked.  “Was this when you just happened to be walking along the road at two o’clock in the morning?  The pubs had been shut for hours, so why exactly were you out?”

Sam saw Webber raise his arm, but clearly Gene had spotted the movement, too, because before Webber had a chance to land a punch, Gene had hit him in the stomach.

“Right,” Gene said, “You’re under arrest.”

“What for?” Webber moaned.

“Attacking a police officer for a start.  I’m sure I’ll have time to think of a few more reasons by the time we get to the station.”

Webber tried to kick Sam, who was in the process of putting the handcuffs on.

“And for starters, we’ll add resisting arrest,” Gene said.

They drove the complaining Webber back to the station.  Once he had been booked in, Sam and Gene returned to Gene’s office.

Ray Carling came in.  “Reynolds has told us some of the things Freeman was up to, including extortion, and has admitted to being involved in that.  However, he’s still denying attacking Freeman.”

“Thanks, Ray,” Gene said.  “We’ve got a second suspect for the attack.  Before you type it up, we’ll have a look at the list Reynolds has given you; it may well prove relevant.”

Ray handed over the list and left the office.

Sam scanned through what had been written, scowling slightly as he tried to decipher some of the handwriting.  “Reynolds mentions Webber several times.  It looks like there was no love lost between the two of them, so that might account for why Webber decided to set him up for the attack.”

He passed the sheet across to Gene, who quickly glanced through it.  “It looks like that’ll give us enough to have Webber all neatly tied up this afternoon, which means we shall have plenty of time for a pint or several this evening.  Lovely!”


End file.
